


Artemis & Actaeon

by kmo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 18:21:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3259712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kmo/pseuds/kmo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal is fascinated by Bedelia's bath</p>
            </blockquote>





	Artemis & Actaeon

**Author's Note:**

> For the tumblr prompt **Balnea** \- bathing

When they were searching for a flat in Florence, Bedelia had only one request. She wanted a bathroom with a tub, preferably a spacious one. As this was the only demand Bedelia had made of him since leaving Baltimore, and a very reasonable one, Hannibal felt obligated to comply. In the end it meant he was left with a smaller kitchen than he would have liked so that Bedelia could have her bath complete with sunken garden tub and Carrara marble floors. Even a sham marriage required compromise.

After they had moved in, it became all too clear why Bedelia wanted her tub. She spent (what seemed to him at least) extraordinary amounts of time in the bath. They worked out a schedule where he could have the shower to himself in the mornings, leaving her free reign to take a luxurious bath in the evenings before bed.

 “It helps me relax,” she had told him.

A glass of wine, a novel, lit candles—Bedelia’s bath was an entire production. But one that Hannibal was excluded from, much to his dismay. He would sit in his study and hear the sounds of her splashing about, sometimes humming to herself in a low contralto. Waves of jasmine spiced with myrrh and fresh-milled soap would drift down the hallway. She emerged every evening soft, pink, and content, her plush robe snug around her like a bearskin.

The sounds and smells of this evening ritual were by no means unpleasant. On the contrary, they were almost entirely  _too_ pleasant, conjuring up images of glistening bare limbs and rounded breasts cresting the water. A lathered sponge dipping between parted thighs. Were Bedelia’s nipples rosy pink or a darker coral?

Such fantasies were entirely inappropriate to be having about one’s psychiatrist. And utterly irresistible.

Bedelia’s sybaritic activities remained a mystery to Hannibal until one evening when he returned home earlier than expected. His quarry that night (a visiting American scholar whose cell phone had gone off in the library complete with a most obnoxious ringtone) had proved more elusive than he had expected. Rather than spend the evening out in the cold, he had elected to try again another day. The meat would keep.

When he entered the flat, he did not see Bedelia, but heard the familiar sound of the tap running in the master bath. He was tempted to call out and announce his presence, but something primal and hedonistic made him still his tongue. He couldn’t help but notice the door was ajar. And he couldn’t help peering through said opening, hoping to catch the barest glimpse…

Bedelia’s small feet planted on either side of the bath’s faucet, warm water running between her splayed thighs. Both hands fondling two shapley, soapy breasts. Her head tossed back in ecstasy.

This was far more than a glimpse.

She moaned softly, the acoustics of the tiled bath amplifying the sound to pornographic proportions. He was instantly, painfully hard at the sight of her. He had never imagined her so wanton, so desperate in pursuit of her own pleasure. He had never in his life been so envious of a faucet before. Hannibal bit his lip and groaned.

One of Bedelia’s manicured hands turned the chrome knob, making the water pour out harder and faster from the tap. Her hips arched and bucked, water pounding down directly on her clitoris. She was close now, so very close, and he was in agony watching her but he couldn’t turn away. A moment before she was about to finish, her blue eyes snapped open, meeting his gaze directly. She had seen him and knew that he had seen her. Eyes open, knowing, and shameless, she climaxed with a moan that echoed through the flat.

Never once breaking eye contact with him, Bedelia turned off the tap and rose from her bath. She walked toward him, completely naked, water dripping from her porcelain skin, droplets hanging from her breasts like diamonds.  Hannibal was suddenly reminded of shepherd boys, and curses, and vengeful goddesses. He tried to think of an apology, but realized he had none.

She opened the door and walked straight up to him, pressing her wet breasts against his starched shirt. One hand cupped his erection possessively. The other grabbed him by the tie and pulled him down to whisper in his ear, “I think you need a bath.”

**Author's Note:**

> In Greek myth, the hunter Actaeon spied upon Artemis in her bath. In her wrath, she transformed him into a stag and he was devoured by his own hunting dogs. Par for the course on _Hannibal_.


End file.
